


D is for Double-header

by eilidh17



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 17:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4445465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eilidh17/pseuds/eilidh17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A double-header generally means two of something.  In this case, two stories both with a D theme, and both wanting to be posted.</p>
<p>D is for Damocles:  Look who finally turned up!</p>
<p>D is for Decontamination:  Some things are best forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D is for Double-header

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fig Newton's Offworld Alphabet Soup. With thanks to Dennyj for her super fast betas.

**D is for Damocles**

"Stay down, Jack."

The room was oppressively hot, bodies packed tight in a space meant for a few but now full to overflowing with curious onlookers, or what Jack had christened as 'rent a crowd'.

"Like hell," Jack muttered beneath his breath as the guard behind him shoved the pointy end of a spear into his back once again. Not enough to draw blood, but Jack had pushed and pushed their captors since they had first been taken at the gate, and Daniel knew it was only a matter of time before it'd be one taunt too many.

He bit down on his bottom lip and chanced a quick look up at the wall behind the vacant throne in front of them. The wall, like the rest in the room, was awash with images from heroic battle scenes to individual portraits, painted in a style similar to artwork from the Greek classical period on Earth. But there was one image above all that had Daniel worried.

"What?" Jack whispered.

Daniel looked sideways at Jack, before returning his gaze to the wall. "They're waiting for something to happen."

"Give me some credit for figuring that part out. Big room, big audience, even bigger throne."

"Damocles."

"Dama--"

"Damocles, Jack. On the wall behind the throne."

Daniel saw Jack lift his head and then quickly drop it again. "Sword above the head?"

"Used in ancient history to represent imminent danger, usually to whoever is in power, but I don't think that's the case here."

"Of course not."

"Could be a court."

"Great. And dollars to donuts the judge is whoever the ruling Goa'uld is here."

"You didn't have to come along."

"Yes, not one of my finer command decisions. Tell me again what intel we relied on that told us this was a safe world?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, it most certainly does not," came the gravelly dual-tone voice of a Goa'uld from somewhere behind them. Jack attempted to turn, but his action was met with a slap to the back of his head, followed by a shove that sent him sprawling face down on the floor. The crowd fell quiet as the Goa'uld stepped around his captives and headed straight for the throne, his long blue robe washing over Jack as he walked past.

"You have got to be kidding me," Jack said through clenched teeth, pushing back on his hands and climbing to his knees again. "Kinsey, you smarmy son of a--"

"Really, O'Neill," the Goa'uld said calmly, and with a superior smile. "I'm sure you know nothing of the host survives."

"You keep telling yourself that, though in this case I couldn't care less if he was alive or dead in there."

"My host so missed your rapturous whit." He let his gaze slide between Jack and Daniel, and then back to Jack.

"Can't say the feeling is mutual."

"Jack," Daniel warned. "This isn't Kinsey."

"I know that!"

The Goa'uld took his spot on the throne and tipped his head in Daniel's direction. "Doctor Jackson, why don't you tell O'Neill exactly who I am. I'm sure you have it all figured out by now."

Daniel shifted his attention back to the artwork behind the throne, and the many images that to the casual observer told a story of heroism in battle, but in actual fact portrayed the reign of this particularly cruel Goa'uld.   "The artwork really helped. Thanks for that."

"Impressive, though perhaps still a little understated for my tastes."

"Tyrannical leader not enough for you these days?"

"Whoa, wait up," Jack said, raising a hand and turning to Daniel. "Wasn't it you who told me not to bait the Goa'uld?"

Daniel shrugged. "He's going to kill us anyway. I just wanted to make sure I had my facts right."

"Which is oh-so-important."

"He's Dionysius the Second." Daniel turned to the Goa'uld. "I'm right, aren't I? After the invasion of Sicily by Timoleon, you were supposedly given safe passage to Corinth, but your fate was never accurately documented. You're responsible for the Sword of Damocles story. You left Earth. Went back to wherever you'd come from until you somehow ended up in the hands of the Trust."

"Very clever." Dionysius smiled almost appreciatively before his lips twisted into a sneer. "But even those who rule must ultimately serve."

Daniel frowned and stared off to one side, caught in thought. "I don't suppose you'd care to tell us who is worthy of such devotion?" he said after a moment. "Ba'al, perhaps?"

"And ruin plans for your planet that have already been set in motion?" He waved towards his Jaffa guards, who forcefully lifted Jack and Daniel to their feet. "Be comforted in knowing your fate precludes you from having to serve a Goa'uld master, unlike the rest of your pathetic little world. Kill them!"

"Wait just a minute--"

An explosion rocked the room. Not too close, but near enough to rattle the walls and bring the crowd to their feet.

"Kree!" Dionysius shouted to the nearest Jaffa. "Find out what has happened!"

"That'd be Carter," Jack said flatly, and just seconds before there was another explosion. "And that's Teal'c." Then a third, far closer and with a larger explosive yield. Jack looked at Daniel and smiled. "Must have brought reinforcements."

"SG-2?"

"I'm thinking 3. Reynolds just loves to let his marines blow things up."

"Oh, oh! Maybe both?"

"You know, I think you might be right." Jack turned to Dionysius, who was half out of his throne and gathering up his robes, clearly intending to make a quick exit. "Obviously, Kinsey's keen sense of self preservation has survived. Leaving so soon?"

"Don't complain," said Daniel in mock annoyance. "More food for us."

Jack feigned surprise. "There's food?"

"Hope so. Being kidnapped and beaten up is hard work."

The End

**D is for Decontamination**

Sterility lived in another room, at the end of a routine that ran on a time loop, over and over until it was broken by an "all clear" that heralded the end of one phase and the start of another. At least, that's what the pictures on the laminated wall poster tried to convey with as much of that sterility as the process allowed.

Everything revolved around a routine of testing contamination levels, strip, shower, and retest. Simple enough, according to the neatly numbered pictures on the poster that showed the procedure in an almost child-like fashion, clinical and ordered, black stick figures on a white background.  

So, he had stripped because the poster on the wall told him that removing clothing would reduce contamination by up to ninety percent, and because nurses in protective clothing had grabbed at his uniform with all haste but no care. Their words were clipped, barked like orders, and Daniel couldn't tell whether they had to yell to be heard through their suits, or perhaps they were just as eager to get away from him as he was to be anywhere else but here.

Fear clawed at his chest, memories buried deep bubbled to the surface as a powerful stream of warm water hit his shoulders and neck. Hands grabbed at his body, lathering him in a foul-smelling soap and touching him in places that dissolved all sense of modesty. Red and bleeding, glass embedded deep in his skin, a Geiger counter screaming its lethal warning, Janet pressing a potassium iodine tablet into his hand and trying not to look him in the eye, because they both knew what neither was prepared to admit.

"Daniel!"

The room was warm, the shower gone, and yet Daniel found himself curled up on his right side on a gurney, shivering under layers of coarse thick blankets. A hand on his shoulder forced him onto his back, and he turned to look up at Jack.

"Where?" he croaked, unable to quite find his voice.

"Are we? P2-something boring.   You scared the crap out of the locals."

"I did?"

"Oh, yes. Apparently, diplomacy with the Catawii begins with an obligatory decon shower from the most xenophobic race in the galaxy. Just another annoying piece of information the Tok'ra chose to leave out of their oh-so-fascinating briefing."

Daniel pulled the blankets tight around his shoulders and forced himself to sit upright. "Not their fault."

"Like hell it isn't. The Tok'ra need this treaty more than we do, but we end up doing their dirty work _again_ all because these folks won't deal with a snake."

"They're not Goa--"

"No crap, Daniel. This is one of those times where a snake is a snake, especially when the race you're dealing with refuses to differentiate.   Personally, I'm on their side."

"The Catawii?"

"Yes... them." Jack shrugged and pulled at the ill-fitting one-piece garment the Catawii had given him, and hopped up on the bed beside Daniel. "I've had a decon shower or two in my time, but nothing like you--"

Daniel winced and dropped his head to his chest. "Yeah. Let's not go there."

"You gonna be okay?"

"If okay means I've reached my quota of one flashback a day."

"Yeah. Not sure it works that way, Daniel."

It didn't, but in truth Daniel considered he had done pretty well up until this point.   He was back in the fold and functioning at the level he was at before the mission to Kelowna had planted a huge fork in his path.   "We only have to do that once, right?"

"Yep. Stripped, bathed, bathed some more and given the all-clear."

He nodded once and let the blankets fall from his shoulders, the memories retreating to the dark recesses of his mind where they usually resided. "Then I'm good."

"Excellent!" Jack slapped a hand to his back and flashed a smile. "Wait until you taste what passes for coffee here."

"Good?"

"Oh, yes."

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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